


Bloody Knees and Bruised Bodies

by thinkwritexpress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkwritexpress/pseuds/thinkwritexpress
Summary: The prompt "You have blood on your knees. No one goes nowhere and gets blood on their knees."





	

You wince when you lean against the doorway, bumping up against a few of your worse cuts and bruises. Sure, you shouldn’t have taken that hunt on alone, but you couldn’t have asked any of  _ them _ for help.

You fumble for your key and you let out a hoarse cry of triumph when you find it. You carefully open the door, trying your hardest to be quiet and ignore your throbbing body.

“Where’ve you been? You look like hell!” John’s voice makes you stand up straighter, defensive, and you narrow your eyes at him, annoyed by your own reaction.

“Nowhere. Doesn’t really matter.” You grumble, trying not to stumble as you walk towards the bathroom. “Besides, why do you care? It’s not like I matter to you. I’m disposable.” You mumble off-handedly, your words slipping out before you can stop them. 

John’s voice is hard and angry when he starts in on you again. “You have blood on your knees. No one goes nowhere and gets blood on their knees.” You tense, fingers gripping the door frame tightly, ready to turn and stand your ground, but his next words sap all the defensiveness from you: “You really think you don’t matter to me?” His voice is soft now, hurt underlying his words, and your shoulders sag as you turn to face him.

You shift nervously, wincing in pain and brushing off his concerned look. “Not really. I know I don’t. I don’t matter to anyone. I’m invisible, forgettable.” Your words spill out before you can stop them, and you inhale a sharp breath of surprise, shooting John a scathing look, trying to cover your vulnerability. “What’s it matter anyway? I’m alive, I can still help with hunts and research, leave it be.” You growl, turning again and slamming the bathroom door shut, effectively ending the conversation. Or so you hope.

After your shower, which cleanses you and relaxes your muscles, though it stings a bit, you walk out wearing a pair of shorts and one of Sam’s old, worn flannels over a tank top. John’s eyes narrow on your clothing, ready to criticize and comment on your outfit, but you hold your hand up to stop him. “Before you can ask, no, I’m not sleeping with Sam, and neither have nor will I ever sleep with either of your sons. Sam was getting rid of it because he grew out of it, and I stole it because it’s comfy.” You assure, scoffing and packing up your bag. 

John walks over to you and puts his hand on your arm, making you freeze. John rarely initiates contact with you, and when he does, it's always to push you out of his way.

“(Y/N), listen… You do matter. Not just to me, but to the boys, Bobby, and a lot of others. You’re not disposable, you’re a vital part of this team. I’m no good at any of this emotional, spill-your-feelings shit, so i don’t tell you enough, but I thought you knew. You’re like family to me, and I can’t imagine losing you. I can’t imagine losing any of you kids.” John takes a breath and shakes himself, his demeanor changing from caring and worried to carefully put together, in control.  “How badly were you hurt? Let me patch you up.” John’s all business now, grabbing the first aid kit from his bag and you pull the sleeves of the flannel up.

“Just a few scrapes on my arms and legs. Might be a gash on my back, could just be a bruise, I can’t tell, other than it hurts like a bitch.” You mumble, eyes closing as he bandages you up carefully.

“Let me see your back, don’t want it getting infected if it is a gash.” You groan at his command, the idea of moving any more unpleasant, but you do as he says, trying to ignore your screaming muscles as you let the flannel fall from your shoulders, pooling at your elbows. You can feel John’s eyes on your back, and you frown when he chuckles.

“You’ve got a nasty bruise back here. Sleeping on your stomach’s gonna be the smart choice.” He advises, and your hear him climb into his bed. You pull your flannel back on and crawl under your covers, falling asleep quickly.

You wake up in the middle of the night, coughing up blood everywhere, and you scream, waking John. Tears pour down your face and you shake while you cough, terrified. John sees the blood and scoops you up effortlessly, running to the Impala and carefully setting you in the passenger seat as another coughing fit wracks your body. John slams your door shut and hurries to his side, sliding in and pulling the car out of the lot seemingly instantaneously in your dazed mind. Frantic phone calls are made as he drives, and when you get to the hospital, you’re rushed in on a stretcher, and Sam and Dean are waiting too, though you only see them briefly before you pass out.

You wake up, dazed and confused, in a hospital room, and when you hear low talking, you try to keep your breathing slow. “She has massive internal bleeding, and not much is clotting. She’s going to bleed out, and soon. We did everything we could. I’m sorry.”

You’re drifting away into the darkness again when someone takes your hand, squeezing it. “I failed you (Y/N). I’m sorry.” John’s voice, and you try to say something, tell him you’ll be okay, but the more you struggle to let him know you’re alive, the faster the darkness takes over, and then you’re out, gone.

In the hospital, there’s the sound of a machine flat-lining, and a man’s heart breaking into pieces over the woman he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the feels, but I feel like John deserves to come across as human rather than a complete tool, so I wanted to hurt him just a little. <3 I'm also thinking of making Thursdays my regular posting days because I have a big amount of free time between my first and second/last class so that'll give me something scheduled to do.


End file.
